Personal Effects
by Thoketan-XER298-RedRover
Summary: A UNSC spartan team and marine detachment must hold a planet against all odds. A valiant Elite leads the Covenant forces. Long time before Fall of Reach.


**A/N: Sorry guys, had to fix the **_**thoughts**_** and lines in this…content should read better from now on.**

Chapter 1: Awakening

_Awake_. That was his first thought. _Able to figh_t was his next. Memory flooded into his head, memories, of training to fight. A name burned in the front of his memories, KARL-019. _More like a designation_, he thought. But then the realization of where he was brought him back to consciousness completely. In a back corner of space, waiting to retake a colony from a faceless enemy. And then the hatch on the pod opened.

"He's awake, and seems ready to go." Sergeant, was all that Karl could see of his benefactor. Then the man turned, he could see a name insignia as well, Sergeant Hernandez. _That name seems familiar_. His thoughts then continued on a different train, _Damn I hate waking up from cryo. I'll have to look him up later._

"Well he better be, mission's on in roughly twelve hours folks, get the others shaken out and running." The man who spoke was tall, wore a UNSC Navy dress uniform, and had a large cigar in his hand, the light a small beacon to Karl. Karl thought back to his history to remember what the man's race would have been called. African, or African-Amercan, he thought. The man's skin was a deep hue of brown, and had a deep voice to match that. Karl's advanced vision read the nametape - Rear Admiral, lower half, Jackson.

"Yes sir," Sergeant Hernandez said to the admiral, "Hey sir, how'd ya feel about helping a poor Navy puke wake the rest?" he said to Karl.

"Gladly, and just where can I go to the restroom first?" Karl-019 said in response.

"Over in that room, Chief Petty Oficer." He laughed, a short bark that augmented the awkward feeling Karl had. Apparently my rank is chief petty, Karl thought leaning down to get a good stretch. He saw on his upper chest the distinguished eagle and three gold bars, and continued his line of thought, well, that settles it.

9 Hours Later

Karl-019 sat at a table in the mess. He was not alone, nor in huge company. A few marines walked around, eating a small, run-of-the-mill, typical military lunch. Karl sat where he was, and had 3 sandwiches, a commodity he had found extremely hard to convince the cook of the ship to bring along. He could tell the supplies for it had been frozen in a similar process to cryostasis, but a much colder variant, much more suited to freezing the dead. The sandwich he was eating was not entirely fresh, but he had become used to the lukewarm equivalent between stale and fresh. When he had gone through the intense Spartan training, he had become extremely addicted to huge sandwiches, known as Dagwoods to some, and that had been his staple. Ham, cheese, turkey, chicken, pork, beef; whatever meat he found was soon sent to the cook to see how it could be integrated into a sandwich. Karl enjoyed sandwiches almost more than bashing in the head of a Covvy bastard.

"How's you doing?" A female voice came behind him, and even though he had been surprised, Karl didn't jump. It was MARA-67, replacement for his squad's friend and member KATE-033. Mara was one of the best stalkers in the Spartan-II program, but Karl just couldn't get himself to like the young petty officer third class, who was cocky and didn't understand the meaning of the old proverb, "Wait to choose your own battlefield." Kate had been less skilled in stalking her prey, but Kate had understood the whole role of a sniper team of three. One sniper, maybe two, one spotter who also did medium range and close quarters, as well as another spotter who could do more of the close range fighting, and periodically check the mines placed around the camp and set any new ones in spaces that had gone off in the past. That was Mara's job now, while Karl was the primary spotter and CHAR-020 was the sniper.

"Fine, what's going on in your corner of the world?" Karl responded resignedly. He disliked conversation with Mara, but once she had set herself on something, she wouldn't give up.

"Oh, great, just shot three hundred rounds in the armory, got ninety-four percent accuracy at the end." She replied haughtily.

"Good for you, but you do know that's nominal accuracy for a Spartan, right?" he said in a condoning manner.

"Yep, but I noticed that last time you shot that same amount of rounds, you got ninety-three-point-nine-seven percent accuracy. This makes me higher in marksman shooting than you." Karl started at this obvious challenge. He had stated a few months ago when Mara had come on board after Kate had her injury, that due to Char's and his accuracy, field experience, and stealth skills, they were the primary spotter and sniper. Mara had not liked this, and had worked on all of her skillsets in those areas to try and rival both. But she had never surpassed either in accuracy.

"So, what are you asking?" he said, in a way that communicated, _I already know, just issue it_.

"I propose we have a shoot off, to see who can be the most accuracy." Mara stated confidently.

"Maybe after we get back from this mission. But we'll just waste ammunition if we go around shooting hundreds of rounds. Not now."

"What, need time to practice? Now or never. Or are you just a coward?"

Karl stood straight up from his chair, revealing his 6'7" height, towering over Mara's 6'1". "Do not insult my courage, leave, you are confined to your quarters until further notice or my death!" Karl very nearly shouted in her face, but instead kept a voice that communicated his extreme displeasure.

"Yes, sir." Mara responded in parade, then attention, then saluted. Karl returned the salute, and Mara walked off towards the 'fore end of the ship.

Char walked in beside him. "Nicely handled. You do know she has friends, and that is the only reason she was even in the Spartan-II project?"

"Yep, and I plan to deal with them in a similar manner. Her skills are used perfectly in the secondary spotter job. She moves invisibly, and is able to melt out of nowhere and destroy an entire squad of grunts and an elite, then melt back to where she came, no one the wiser. But she can't get the damned idea! She is not superior to me, and her blatant challenge will have to be answered for." Karl replied, somewhat heated on the issue.

"Okay, I see, but don't lose it over a simple disobedience. We can deal with this when we get back from the planet. And by the way, are you planning to let her come on the mission?"

"Yeah, have to, we can't run without the back up, and she needs the combat experience." Karl replied finally.

"Alrighty then, see you later, I'm gonna be sleeping for an hour, then hand-to-hand with my buds over there." Char said this with a certain concluding tone in his voice.

"Don't hurt anyone, or yourself."

"Yes sir." the Char pivoted on his heel and walked out.

15 Minutes Into the Drop Zone

"Hell, they're on my tail Firehawk, I can't keep them off!" A voice crackled over the radio, panic infused.

"Coming on your six Shelter, hold them off for another 10 seconds!" a voice responded.

"Negative, negative. Shortsword Firehawk hit, we are going down, I repeat, we are going-" a loud crash and thud sounded outside the Pelican dropship that Karl, Mara, and Char were in.

"Dammit!" Char muttered under his breath, "This is not going well. Rescue?"

"Cannot follow that up Char," Karl continued, "Team Gamma doesn't have the forces to penetrate their defenses, it would be suicide."

"Ever heard of no man left behind?"

"Yeah, and I regret this decision - but we can soften up the area for a marine rescue team to go in." Karl left the sentence hanging.

"Roge-o Mr. K." Char turned to the Marine Captain next to him, "Sir, how'd ya feel about kicking the Covvy asses right about now?"

"Oh hell yeah Spartan, oh hell yeah. But we have another mission at hand."

"We can," Char paused, "Delay it for about five minutes? Right?"

"I think I like where this is going Spartan, but where we dropping?"

"Over there on that plateau, in roughly twenty seconds." Karl interjected from the door to the cockpit of the Pelican.

"Roger that. Marines!" Captain Engle bellowed, "Lock and Load!" There was a definite smile on his face as he said those words.

"Sir Yes Sir!" the marines returned in a chant, followed by several charging handles, mag checks, reloads, and belt buckles clicking.

Less than half a minute later, Spartan team Gamma was leading a charge forward to the downed shortsword fighter. The plan was for Gamma to clear out as many hostiles, then call in the Marines to rescue the pilots and crew members. Gamma would then cover their retreat.

The first part of the plan went well enough. There was only a squad of grunts and 3 elites moving around the crashed fighter warily. With the elites sniped, the grunts followed suit in the marine charge. But then the rescue effort seemed to take a change for the worst when a sheet of metal fell on one of the marines, crushing his legs and left arm. He was placed on one of the military stretchers carried at all times by the marines, and left with a pistol to guard the approach. Then the rescue crew found a door, but it was locked. And to make matters worse, the ship was starting to fall deeper into the sand it was encased on.

Gamma team was remarking on the location when Char saw something. "Over there, a shape!"

"I see it." Karl checked again, "He's gone, moving towards the shortsword. Weapons free Char," he added on the radio, "Keep it tight Mara."

"Yes sir, we have one mine gone, another blown, and three dead grunts."

"Thanks for the update, keep us posted. -019 out."

The loud .50cal sniper rifle barked a two foot belch of fire. "Got 'em mano!" Char exclaimed, then grabbed his arm, "Aargh! Fuck it!" A large pink needle was sticking out of his arm at a skewed angle.

Karl looked over, an elite materialized over Char's now wriggling body. It grumbled something unintelligible. "Fuck you mano!" Char screamed and pulled the pistol out of it's holster with his good arm and shot a hole clean through the elite's head. Char the slumped over and breathed in ragged breaths. "Fuck this hurts, fuck it mano!" Char was yelling now, but still exposing their position to many concealed elites, who started up towards Spartan Team Gamma.

Over at the Shortsword, things were getting along better. The marines had cut a hole in the door with laser cutters, and pulled out two surviving pilots and a dead body, unrecognizable by the marines. A paramedic cleared his way over to the marines and the almost dead men. "Spartan Team Gamma, we have the precious cargo, extracting soon."

"Radio silence, green smoke for the LZ." Came Karl's voice crackling over the radio.

The Captain, confused, radioed the Pelican on a different channel. "We have three injured, and possibly more from the Spartans, extraction soon."

"Affirmative, be there in five. Room for wounded, we have a 'Hog if you need to drop it off for a forward deployment as we move away from the LZed back to to the ship."

"Copy that, are you able to drop two 'Hogs Lochira?"

"Uhh, I can drop one, but you'll need to juryrig something for another. Is there anything in the 'sword?"

"Negative. Any other Pelicans with 'Hogs?"

Another voice interjected on the combat radio, "This is Pelican Firestorm, we have a troop transport hog, would that be of assistance?"

"Affirmative, bring it to the green smoke, prepare for medivac Lochira, fireteam Lochira out."

"Copy that fireteam Lochira, Firestorm on the way."

"Lochira as well, over and out."

_Well that gets that taken care of_, Captain Engle thought. "Hey, Private Palmer, get out the green smoke. Keep a red handy."

"Sir, Hammers had the smoke."

"Eh? Where's Hammers then?" Engle replied.

"He got slammed by the sheet, he's over by the rocks up there."

"Then get the damned smoke from him, Private! We got wounded over here!"

"Uuh, Fireteam Lochira, where's that smoke?"

"Working on it, Fireteam Lochira out."

"Affirmative."

Meanwhile, Karl was in a fierce hand-to-hand battle with an elite. He was on top of it, and his fist rained down blow after blow, only to be stopped by the armor on it's face and arms. Char was bleeding heavily from his arm. The needle had exploded, but Char's biofoam must have been blown out as well. _This day is just turning to one, big, clusterfuck_, thought Karl, _Not only has the team down there been compromised, we have too! Dammit!_ Then the elite managed to hit a blow in Karl's gut, and rolled him over. Karl was on the defensive.

The elite then let out a terrible scream. A knife protruded from it's left eye, coming out of the back with whole loads of purple blood, all spurting on Karl's armor. Karl pushed the beast away and looked into another elite's eyes. This one spoke to him, in a familiar language. "We sangheli have a saying, may the best warrior win, but watch out for your back." The elite, as Karl knew it, was holding the very same knife that had killed the first elite.

"Oh damn this day, damn this fucking piece of shit day!" Karl spoke in a growing crescendo. The elite lunged, knife first. Karl brought up his arm to block it.

Mara was picking her way back towards the first two of her squad, when she heard Karl say that from a hundred meters away. She brought up her battle rifle, and checked the ammunition contained. As she sneaked up on Karl, she saw both green smoke and an elite holding a wickedly curved knife. The elite lunged-and met a blast of the battle rifle in it's side. The shields absorbed all of the blast, so Mara fired again, as the elite lunged for Karl again. Karl rolled to the left, and whipped his knife out of his leg armor pocket. His knife was a similar match to the elite's. But while the elite's knife was curved, Karl's was not. And the elite's knife matched the color of his armor, a tepid shade of light green. Karl brought his knife up to the defense, and the elite's shields regenerated. But Karl's had never gone down. Not yet, anyways. So the fight commenced, while Mara tried to track the lighting fast movements of the elite, unable to fire a shot.

"Popping green smoke!" yelled Palmer. "Red for abortion is right here" he added, pointing to the other smoke on his pack.

A minute later, two Pelicans screamed overhead. "I see you, fireteam Lochira, we will land in approximately fifty seconds."

"Affirmative, gotcha covered from the ground."

Mara saw the Pelicans scream over their heads. When she looked back to the battle in front of her, she saw the elite, but gutted, with it's knife now magnetically attached to Karl's armor. "Need some help?" she asked him when he ran over to Char.

"Negative, watch our six as we head to that smoke." Karl added over the radio, "We have a wounded Spartan, Gamma team heading to green smoke."

"Affirmative, well keep the lights on for you. Get over here soon." Captain Engle radioed.

The Pelicans screamed overhead for a second pass, but they stopped quickly over the smoke, allowing for the warthog to be dropped unceremoniously about 5 meters from the sky. A large, distinctive crunch with a bang signaled its arrival. Marines soon flooded the transport 'hog, and the Spartans sprinted in at top speed. "We are coming in hot!" Mara exclaimed outside of her helmet speakers, "At least twenty Elites in the back, along with some battle-hardened grunts. We got company!"

The other warthog was also dropped unceremoniously onto the ground, where a marine jumped up into the .50cal machine gun mounted on top. "Oh hell yeah!" he said, with a dark glint in his eyes, as he pulled back the three charging levers.

Then the elites were upon them. Karl was still sprinting when bursts from a plasma rifle whistled past his head. He stumbled. Five marines headed out of cover to shower grenades upon the elites and few grunts. One was shot, he instantly died. "Grumman's down, Grumman's down!" shouted another marine.

"Copy, drag his body to the Pelican if you can."

"Will do, out." The battle swarmed about the beleaguered marines and Spartans. For every elite and grunt killed, more seemed to jump out of the ground, like a mobile spawn point. Then the Pelicans came in on a third, and final, run. One of them, clearly marked as Firestorm, dropped a large carton of explosives down, out the back hatch. As the Pelican flew away, there was a large explosion, augmented by the sound of the two fifty-cals on the back, a combat readied strike Pelican. The elites experienced a brief hesitation. They stayed in cover for a few seconds longer than normal.

Lochira took advantage of this slow in the battle to drop in, and pick up the wounded replacing them with a new squad of 4 marines. The battle ended soon after that, as the elites realized, perhaps too late, that they were starting to lose the advantage on this battle.

2 Hours After the Skirmish

Two warthogs drove quickly down the beachhead, sprinting from cover to cover as they went. The two drivers were obviously skilled, and had been doing this for a long while. In one warthog, were Chief Petty Officer-019, and Petty Officer Third-067. They also had a Marine, private Palmer, with them. In the other 'hog were several more marines, including Captain Engle, the man in charge of the marines on this mission.

There mission was to sabotage, and destroy a Covenant facility. They had been delayed for over half an hour in the rescue of several shortsword pilots, who had been shot down. Then they had to continue the journey towards the Covenant outpost, by motorized assault vehicles, or light recon. The warthog LRV's were sufficient for the trip there, but it was obvious that they would not have enough juice to get the whole way back to the pre-arragned LZ that was 20 klicks from their eventual position. The only choices would be to call in a Pelican drop ship for a hot pick up, soup up one of the 'hogs to have a better control, or to take enemy transport. Karl-019 and Captain Engle had both already decided that the last choice was the obvious best. Both of them had received training in Covenant vehicles, and that would only add to their chance of survival to be in two or more transports.

The second best plan was already being put in place. MARA-067 was working on moving parts of the triple barreled .50cal on her warthog to the back of the troop warthog. It was a tedious process, and could result in their close deaths if an enemy were to show up in the vicinity. But Palmer had his rocket launcher laid down in the seat behind him, and he was ready to use it, should an enemy armor force approach.

2 Miles "West" Fireteam Lochira

"Ahh, come to me, my little darlings. I have a surprise for you. Yes, yes, yes...Many surprises. Do not know just how important you can be to me. Just come closer, come closer." It was spoken in a humming voice, but not that of an installation monitor. It was the voice of a rampant AI.

The life was gone from it's eyes, replaced just by more inane binary chatter. It moved from portal to portal. The ruins it had hidden in for more than ten thousand years held the greatest secret that he had been trusted with. But he had forgotten it so many years ago. All he knew was to use anyone and everyone to protect it. Whatever it was. He did not know. And that did not frighten him. He was simply there to hold position_. To block all intruders, and to stop anything from entering the chamber. What is the Chamber?_ It wondered to itself. _Am I really supposed to protect this? Why?_ Millions of questions, never more than one answer, only one answer every hundred years. An answer that he hated, and knew must come, an answer that was always the same, an answer he did not want to hear.

"You are necessary to the protection of this secret. Keep it safe. Never let anyone in." That was the answer he received every century, when he finally built up the courage to venture into the Chamber. He was upset. He was finished. _Let someone find this relic! Secret? Ha! I'm leaving!_ The A.I. left it's pedestal and moved away. He just needed to wait. _To wait for those perfect bodies to come_. Then he could expulge the humans - unworthy descendants of his masters - from their suits, and leave. All he needed was just one suit!

2 Weeks Later

Char recovered. Spartan Team Gamma succeeded in their goal. The planet was theirs, again. One thing bothered Karl however; the Covenant hadn't come back for it. Not yet. They had made an early strong push for this planet, but now they let it go so easily. This would edge on Karl's mind for the next weeks to come.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please can you give a good review? It would be most helpful for my writing of the next chapter, which is a little longer I believe and almost done.

**Thanks. I should be able to answer questions with a note at the beginning of each chapter, so go ahead and ask some if you want to. **


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